


the apple is a decoy don't take your eyes off the knife

by victoriousscarf



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Added some of the pairings I know are going to show up, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Multi, Small Towns, more will probably show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:23:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: It's just your usual small town living in the South.Even the ancient vampires are pretty normal, aren't they?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've given up whining about new story ideas. I'm just going to ride this train to the end at this point. Pairings and warnings and notes to be added.

Varric pulled the door open and glared blearily at Aveline on the other side. “It’s seven thirty in the morning,” he said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Is Hawke here?” Aveline asked, skipping a greeting.

“It’s not like I have a bunch of extra beds or anything,” Varric said.

“He’d sleep under a table and we all know it,” Aveline replied. “Answer the question, Varric.”

“No, he’s not here. Why check here first anyway if you’re looking for him? Why not go to his actual home?”

“I already did,” Aveline said, sounding more agitated.

Varric finally started to frown. “Well he’s not here. He wasn’t here all night.”

Aveline took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Great.”

“I assume you tried his phone already,” Varric said.

“Isabella has it,” Aveline muttered.

Varric’s eyes darted behind her, frowning at the sun just peeking up over the edge of the tree line. “Well, shit. What’s the worry though? Hawke can take care of himself.”

“Someone died last night,” Aveline said.

“You can’t think it was Hawke. You know better—”

“I do,” Aveline said. “Why do you think I’m so worried about him?”

Varric paused, looking at the sun again before he sighed. “I wish I knew where he was. If the others are back, do you think it will be like it was a few years ago?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Aveline said. “Especially since we don’t really know what caused them to leave town last time.”

“I’ll go wake up Isabella. She usually knows the spots he’d go to ground,” Varric declared, closing the door and resting his head against it for several moments, biting down his growing worry.

Hawke could take care of himself, he reminded himself several times. It wasn’t like seven years ago.

-0-

Cullen stood on his porch, watching the sunrise because otherwise Blackwall was going to accuse him of hovering again. “How is she doing?” Cullen asked, studiously not looking over at where Blackwall was crouched next to his horse.

“She’s going to have to be mighty careful of this leg,” Blackwall said. “Keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn’t get infected and she’ll pull through.”

Cullen let out a breath he had been holding, finally looking over at Blackwall who was wrapping bandages back around to set in his bag. “Thank you.”

Blackwall nodded and Cullen shifted, uncertain what to say as usual. “Do you need anything else before you leave. Some tea or—”

“No,” Blackwall said and Cullen subsided into awkward silence again. “Are you going to Varric’s tonight?”

“Varric’s?” Cullen asked, looking back over in surprise. “I didn’t realize,” and Cullen stopped himself from saying what he almost did, though Blackwall hardly looked disturbed. “It’s not actually called Varric’s, though, is it?”

“No,” Blackwall said. “The Hanged Man. Strange sense of humor.”

“You could say that,” Cullen said, shifting again, because he mostly tried to avoid Varric’s bar. It had a certain reputation and was a far drive, out in the country side between their town and the next one over.

“So are you coming?”

“I’m surprised you’re going,” Cullen admitted.

“It’s trivia night,” Blackwall shrugged as if that made any damned sense at all.

“Are you a fan of trivia?” Cullen asked after the silence had stretched just a little too far.

“Well enough,” Blackwall said, standing and dusting his knees off before patting Joy on her flank, ignoring when she snapped her teeth at him. “You just don’t get out much.”

Cullen stared at him a long moment, feeling a little offended. He knew his sister fretted at him about not getting out and having enough fun but to realize his veterinarian felt the same way was a bit of a blow. “I get out,” he mumbled and Blackwall glanced at him before shrugging.

“Of course,” he agreed and it made Cullen’s teeth set on edge. “Well just make sure Joy leaves her leg alone. If I see you tonight I’ll see you.”

“I’ll get you your check the usual way,” Cullen mumbled and Blackwall nodded, picking his bag up and heading for his car, Cullen watching him go before approaching Joy, who huffed at him. “I know, I know,” he murmured, smoothing a hand down her neck. “He was just here to help.”

She eyed him and Cullen sighed, resting his forehead against her for a moment before leading her back to the stable, talking softly the whole time. He went about the rest of his chores for the day, checking on the cheese and the small path of vegetables he was desperately trying to grow. Most of his father’s old farm was just dusty fields now and without the cows he didn’t know what he would be doing.

He didn’t realize until halfway through the afternoon he was seriously considering Blackwall’s odd invitation to trivia night. “I must be crazy,” he told the chickens he was feeding and the hen Sally fluffed her wings at him because he was still holding the grain. Cullen obediently set the grain down and went to find the hose to refill their water dish before crawling into the coop to gather the eggs.

Once the day’s work was done he found himself back on the porch as the sun went down, checking his phone. It was too early to expect a message from Meredith so he slid his phone back into his pocket and watched the sunset.

Even though he went back inside after that and changed his shirt he was still a little surprised to find himself getting back into his battered pick up truck and turning it toward Varric’s bar. He got there before it was fully dark, making sure the door was locked behind him. When he was in high school he used to sneak out here far more often, but had avoided it more or less completely for the last few years.

Everyone in town knew where everyone else was and besides, he had plenty else to do with his nights.

But when he pushed the door open and slipped in, he found Blackwall already sitting at one of the tables, Mahanon Lavellan of all people already sitting next to him, still in his scrubs from the local clinic. “Ah, my favorite patient!” Mahanon said, waving a hand at him to come over. “It’s weird to see you without coffee in hand. I’m almost disappointed.”

“The coffee is payment,” Cullen said. “I’m not paying you for trivia night.”

“You’re not? Boo,” Mahanon said, pulling a face at him. “But you have to admit, I need the coffee when you come in roughly five times a week.”

Cullen slid into the seat across from him. “I haven’t been in this week.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Mahanon said. “You have _plenty_ of time to make up for.”

Cullen glanced at Blackwall who nodded at him in greeting. “It’s not nearly as dramatic as you make it out.”

“How many stitches have you had this year?” Mahanon asked instead. “Seriously, can you even remember past the number of concussions you’ve had.”

“I work on a farm,” Cullen said, trying to play it off.

“Ha ha,” Mahanon said, rolling his eyes. “I know a lot of farmers. It comes with the territory.”

“When does trivia night start?” Cullen asked instead, and Mahanon pointed behind him at the chalkboard sign where the start time and theme were laid out. “You know I know nothing about American Literature, right?” Cullen said, looking back at Blackwall who shrugged.

“Maybe some of your high school classes will come back to you,” Mahanon said brightly. “You never know. You could surprise yourself.”

“Sure,” Cullen agreed after a beat as more people started to drift in and it got louder and louder. Cullen started to remember why he avoided bars as he watched Mahanon try to draw Blackwall out into conversation. Cullen glanced around the bar again, almost jumping out of his chair when he turned back and found a young woman with a name tag standing by their table.

“Are you guys alright?” she asked, sounding worried. “Do you need anything? Are you good?”

Mahanon raised his still half full glass at her. “We’re doing great, thanks.”

“Oh good,” she said, looking relieved. “I’m still rather new at this.” And she just as quickly scurried off to the next table, to make sure they weren’t missing anything.

“She doesn’t sound like she’s from town,” Blackwall said.

“I think it’s the accent that gives her away,” Mahanon agreed, leaning back in his chair.

“Her tattoos look a bit like yours,” Blackwall said, glancing over at him.

“Do they?” Mahanon asked lightly. “Maybe we know the same artist. She’s very particular, you know.”

Cullen hid a smile behind his glass because the entire school had gone into a collective uproar when Mahanon had shown up at school the day after he turned eighteen with swirls on his cheekbones.

“You owe me for this,” Cassandra said, suddenly sitting down next to Cullen but staring right at Mahanon.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mahanon said, grinning. “You _love_ American Literature.”

“If you knew the theme you could have told me before coming,” Cullen said.

“Would you have come?” Blackwall asked and Cullen leaned back, checking his phone under the table again.

“Probably not,” Cullen admitted when there were no messages from Meredith yet. He looked at the door, realizing it was fully dark outside but there was still nothing. He put his phone back in his pocket, looking up to find Mahanon teasing Cassandra about her reading.

“And you know it’s your favorite book—”

“It is not,” Cassandra hissed.

“Have you figured out who the author is yet?” Mahanon asked.

“No, and I’m starting to believe you don’t either,” Cassandra said. “I can’t figure out how you would have discovered the real identity of the author anyway.”

“I have my ways,” Mahanon said, wrangling his fingers. “Be nice to me tonight, and I might even introduce you.”

“I still don’t believe you,” she said and Cullen looked up again as the door pushed open, Hawke rolling in from the darkness outside. And Cullen remembered only too well exactly why he avoided this bar most of the time, as his chest tightened in that funny way it usually did whenever he had chance to encounter the other man. Luckily it wasn’t often, and they had only had a handful of conversations in their lives, despite living within a ten-mile radius of each other since high school.

Hawke slid through the crowd to the bar, hopping over it as Isabella leaned over, grabbing his shirt by the front and yanking him down to hiss something. He grinned and shrugged, spreading his arms out as she continued to snarl before abruptly releasing him and going back to pouring beer for the costumers who were giving them sideways looks.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Mahanon said to Blackwall who shrugged.

“They’re not sleeping together,” he said.

“They aren’t?” Cassandra asked, looking over her shoulder. “Are you certain of that? How?”

“They just aren’t,” Blackwall shrugged and Mahanon huffed out a breath.

“At least I’m not the only one who has a hard time believing him when he says that,” Mahanon said as Varric finally entered the room, seeing Hawke and doing a double take before he cleared his throat and went up to the microphone, rustling the trivia questions to get everyone’s attention.

“Welcome, ladies, gents, everyone who fucks the gender binary,” Varric said into the microphone. “I hope you all brought your thinking caps,” and a muffled half-hearted cheer went up. “Yeah, that’s what I like to hear,” Varric sighed.

And even though Cullen checked his phone during the whole night, no messages demanding his attention came through, so he poured out of the bar with everyone else. But he came to a stop when he turned the corner and found Hawke leaning against his truck, arms crossed and glaring down at Varric who stood in front of him.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” Varric demanded. “Aveline is going to murder you with her bare hands. I’m considering it. She woke me up at the crack of fucking dawn. She woke _Isabella_ up at the crack of dawn to go look for you. We had to leave Merrill in charge of the bar while we were gone.”

“You didn’t have to worry,” Hawke said with a shrug.

“Don’t we?” Varric said, and in all the years Cullen had been sneaking into Varric’s bar with a fake ID and then his real one, he had never seen him look quite so mad. “It’s not like someone wasn’t murdered last night or anything.” Cullen could see Hawke’s shoulders tense, even from a distance. “It’s not like they were mysteriously missing _all their blood_ or anything crazy like that.”

Cullen felt himself startle, hand already on his phone before he even thought about it. If Meredith didn’t know already she would need to and soon.

Hawke though was looking at Varric like he’d been struck. “Varric—”

“The kids are probably flipping their shit too,” Varric said. “Go home, Hawke. I don’t even care where you were last night and all day anymore.”

“Varric,” Hawke said softly.

“Just, just, seriously,” Varric said, waving him off. “Carver is already probably ready to kill you.”

“I texted mom once I got my phone back,” Hawke said.

“Sure, that’s really going to waylay Carver at all,” Varric muttered, turning around and walking past Cullen with only one sideways look before he shook his head and started muttering under his breath.

That left Hawke staring at Cullen, who could only stare back for a long moment.

“Can I help you?” Hawke asked finally.

“That’s,” Cullen cleared his throat. “That’s my truck.”

Hawke stared at him before he startled, pushing off from the truck. “Ah, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Cullen mumbled, and Hawke started to follow Varric before he paused.

“Hey, Cullen, right?”

“Yeah,” Cullen said, looking up and realizing Hawke had stopped mere inches from him.

“It’s been a while,” Hawke said, tilting his head to one side and Cullen wanted to ask him if his leather jacket wasn’t too hot in this heat.

“It has,” Cullen agreed.

“You doing alright?” Hawke asked and Cullen blinked in confusion at him.

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

“Good,” Hawke said brightly and seemed to waver a second before walking away, leaving Cullen standing there with his stomach twisting. After a few minutes he heard the sound of a motorcycle on the far side of Varric’s bar and let out a breath before he yanked his phone out and dialed Meredith’s number.

“Cullen,” she greeted, clipped.

“There’s been a vampire attack,” Cullen said. “I’m sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition folks have semi-normal jobs while the Kirkwall crew are basically solely employed by Varric and somehow that seems incredibly fitting.


	2. Chapter 2

Carver was waiting on the porch when Hawke pulled his motorcycle up. Hawke figured it was about a fifty-fifty chance that he heard the bike coming up the road or that he stood out here all night just to look disapproving.

“You could, you know, not start,” Hawke said, crossing his arms and leaning them on the front of his bike and arching an eyebrow at his brother.

“Or you could be less of a dipshit jerk,” Carver said, scowling.

“Right, I mean, there’s loads of options,” Hawke shrugged.

“You should wear your helmet,” Carver added as Hawke sighed and finally swung his leg over the bike, running his fingers through his hair a couple times.

“Not much point, is there?” Hawke asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were trying to _blend in_ ,” Carver said, arms still crossed as Hawke came up the few front steps.

“Aren’t I blending in?” Hawke asked, placing a hand on his chest and going around Carver to reach for the door. Carver’s hand darted out, grabbing his wrist.

“Brother,” he said. “You didn’t tell us where you were. I know you’ve gone missing before but—”

“That’s exactly it, I have,” Hawke said. “I don’t know why everyone is kicking up—”

“Last time you went missing when ancient vampires were roaming in this particular neck of the woods you _died_ ,” and Hawke stilled, Carver still holding his wrist. They stared at each other in the light from the windows for a long moment.

“I’m fine,” Hawke said softly.

“We had no way of knowing that,” Carver said. “Mom’s been fretting all day. Bethany almost skipped her classes again. We were all worried.”

“Even you?” Hawke said, trying to move the conversation back onto comfortable ground.

“Fuck you,” Carver said. “Just, ugh, come inside,” and he let go of Hawke’s wrist to shove the door open.

“You know you don’t have to invite me in every time, right?” Hawke said, crossing the threshold of the old farm house. “Like once you invite a vampire in they basically get carte blanche to stroll in?”

Carver shot him another glare over his shoulder as Bethany clattered down the stairs, flinging herself at Hawke. “I hoped that was your bike coming up the road.”

“I’m fine,” Hawke said. “I didn’t even hear the news that there was something to worry about until tonight.”

She hit his shoulder with one hand. “This is why you’re supposed to keep your phone on you!”

“It didn’t have a charge and I forgot it,” Hawke said. “I had to rush out.”

“Where did you go, anyway?” Carver asked. “On another one of your quests to help all the little people of this county?”

“Like you haven’t participated in your fair share of that,” Hawke shot over his shoulder. Feynriel’s mom was freaking out again and I got sorta stuck there when the sun rose.”

“You were insufferable in high school,” Carver said, shaking his head. “Becoming a vampire only made you worse. You know it’s not your job to try and help everyone right?”

Hawke shrugged, Bethany still clinging to him. “It’s not like I have much else to do with my time.”

“Oh,” another voice said from the doorway, Leandra standing there and drying her hands off with a towel. “There you are.”

“Sorry, mom,” Hawke said, giving her a sheepish smile over Bethany’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean to make anyone fret.”

“Maybe start carrying a portable charger,” Bethany said, whacking his shoulder again before finally stepping back as Leandra let out a long breath, like she had been holding it all day.

“Yeah, I’ll look into that,” Hawke said as a loud banging started on the door.

They all paused for a moment before Hawke sighed. “That will be Aveline then.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bethany said and Hawke sighed again.

“And you’re going to make me answer the door myself.”

“All by yourself,” Carver helpfully added, walking over to stand next to their mother as Hawke rolled his eyes and went over to the door, checking the peep hole before pulling it open.

“Aveline!” he greeted, spreading his arms out as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hawke,” she greeted flatly and Hawke pulled the door shut behind him, walking over to lean his hip against the porch railing.

“Oh I know that voice and that face. I’m about to get a lecture worthy of being noted on the calendar.”

“You’re not going to deflect me,” Aveline said. “I’m downright furious with you.”

“It doesn’t help at all that I was saving the soul of a young boy?” Hawke asked.

“Oh it helps,” Aveline said, leaning her back against the railing, crossing her ankles and her arms across her chest. “But it doesn’t make me any less furious.”

“To be fair I had no idea last night was going to go so pear shaped,” Hawke said. “Carver mentioned ancient vampires. Do you actually think they came back or is it just kids fucking around?”

“It was very deliberate,” Aveline said. “The question is are they just passing through on their way somewhere else or are they coming back?”

“What is it about this patch of ground that fascinates them so much?” Hawke asked. “We got cotton and dust and bad beer. That’s basically it.”

“And lot of people no one would miss,” Aveline said, leveling a look at Hawke who just stared back, unimpressed.

“That’s true of basically the whole region,” Hawke said. “I mean, they could go up to Detroit if they just want people who are poor and desperate.”

Aveline sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“This time,” Hawke said and she closed her eyes. Hawke watched her for a moment in silence.

“Please don’t joke about that,” Aveline said. “They killed you last time. The fact you’re a vampire at all instead of just _dead_ was pure chance. We’re still not even sure they realized they left you behind.”

“Or why they left the first time,” Hawke pointed out. “But honestly. Maybe they’re just passing through.”

“There’s a lot of unanswered questions, Hawke,” Aveline said. “I’m going to need you to be careful until we answer some of them.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hawke said, like he had ever been careful in his life before. They stood out on the porch for another minute in companionable silence. “So when you say that the death was deliberate,” Hawke asked. “How deliberate, exactly?”

“Ritualistic,” Aveline said and Hawke felt his shoulders tighten. “Candles, signs of a fight in the center of some ring and in the middle of all of that a body. Unlike the last time anyone saw something like this though, the body was really dead.”

Hawke closed his eyes for a moment, remembering a night not too different from this one when he had woken up in a daze underground, being dragged into the middle of a circle carved into the basement floor, candles flickering everywhere and cold hands around his throat and the smell of decay overwhelming the smoke.

He remembered the pain as he struggled against the implacable hands around his throat, the fangs in his neck. He remembered the rage when he realized that he was dying, even though he was still disoriented enough to process very little else. He wasn’t willing to leave his family, the twins were just entering high school and they _needed_ him.

Despite the pain, despite the smoke, despite the hands holding him with an inhuman strength he had started to struggle again, kicking out and flinging his arms around like that might do anything at all. When his limbs were too heavy to lift anymore, he’d turned his head and bit at the check of the being holding him, breaking the skin in the last act of defiance he had in him.

And then he had woken up, left behind in the dark and had screamed out all the panic and fear and pain and rage until his throat had gone raw.

“So,” he said finally, looking up at the night sky. “Exactly like seven years ago.”

“Yes,” Aveline said softly, because she was the only one who Hawke had explained what happened in any detail. He simply didn’t want the others to know. “I went looking into the old reports. Bodies have been found more or less exactly like that, scattered around the whole county for decades. Probably much longer. Some of the files in the Sherriff’s office were mysteriously lost in a five about thirty years ago.”

“I mean, it could have just been chance,” Hawke said.

Aveline hummed. “It could have been.”

“So ancient vampires, probably back in town,” Hawke said. “You’re not going to do something insanely stupid like go after them, are you?”

“Where would I even start?” Aveline asked, not looking at him.

“Followed by you would be super fucking dead,” Hawke said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“You’re the hero of the downtrodden,” Aveline shot back. “You’re honestly telling me if they start preying on the people here, more than they already have, you’d just sit back and hope they leave again?”

Hawke let out a long stream of air as he looked up at the sky again. “You know, seven years later and we don’t actually know that much at all about vampires.”

“You should ask Merrill about it,” Aveline said and Hawke snorted. “She seems to think the mythology section at the local library is a source of accurate information on the occult.”

“Not that our fiction section isn’t excellent,” Hawke said. “But I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen a single book there that accurately describes fucking anything about my life.”

“Exactly.”

“But she’s right,” Hawke said after another beat. “To want to know more about us. I mean, I want to know more too, I just don’t know where the fuck you’d go to find anything. She’s determined to go anywhere to find anything and it’s admirable, really.”

“It is,” Aveline said. “But as you said, you have no idea where to even find such information that isn’t—”

“Older vampires themselves?” Hawke helpfully finished.

“It is strange the three of you,” Aveline said after a beat. “All turned and then basically left out in the wilderness. Vampires are sloppier than I ever figured.”

“Or they just don’t give a fuck,” Hawke said. “Who cares who we feed on and leave behind, they’re just mortals and we apparently don’t have a lot of vampire solidarity.”

Aveline tipped her head back, both of her hands braced against the railing. “You’ll be careful. Please tell me you’ll be careful.”

“You gonna promise me the same thing, Sherriff?” Hawke asked and she let out a noisy sigh. “Didn’t think so.” He paused another moment before reaching a hand out, taking one of hers. “How about we promise to each other we’ll be as careful as we can, given the circumstances. And we’ll watch out for each other.”

“We already do that,” Aveline protested.

“We’ll do it extra hard,” Hawke said and after a moment she chuckled, turning her hand over to grasp his.

“Alright,” she said. “But truly. _Extra_ careful, Hawke.”

“And I’ll get a portable phone charger,” he said as she reached into her pant’s pocket with her other hand, depositing a portable charger in his hand a moment later. “Or you already bought me one.”

“It’s pre-charged,” Aveline said. “Don’t lose it, and make sure you recharge it after using it.”

“Yes, dear,” Hawke said, shaking his head and laughing. “I won’t let you done, dear.”

“Good, because I’m counting on you,” she said and suddenly it didn’t seem worth joking about at all. “I almost lost you already. I don’t like that.”

Hawke looked down for a moment before squaring his shoulders and lifting his gaze again, giving her a sloppy salute. “Roger Roger. Don’t fuck up, be safe, keep your charger charged.”

“Good man,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching up.

“Now come in for dinner and witness Carver’s death glare,” Hawke said, jerking his head toward the door. “Mom will be furious if you don’t.”

“If you insist,” Aveline said, already pushing herself off the railing and heading for the door.

“Oh, someone will insist I’m sure,” Hawke said, following her.

He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder into the dark and empty fields around them. He stood for a moment, looking into the darkness before he softly closed the door behind himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Cullen made it down the stairs and no one needed to know he’d stood there for five minutes, hand over his chest, reminding himself how to keep breathing.

“You’re late,” Meredith remarked.

“I was out at Varric’s,” Cullen said, and several of the men with Meredith glanced over at him. “It was Trivia night,” he explained, hating the curl in his stomach at the looks. Everyone knew the type of people who showed up at Varric’s bar out in the strange middle between their town and the next over.

“Is that where you heard about the attack?” Meredith asked.

“The Sheriff over at Marvell knew about it,” Cullen said.

“Vallen?” Meredith asked. “That’s surprising.”

“That she knew?”

“That she told anyone about it,” Meredith said, already turning around. “The police picked over the scene this morning already.” She fingered the caution tape around the circle of candles before ducking down and walking across the bloodied floor.

“I think she was worried about some of her friends,” Cullen said, trying to look away from the circle. It had been years but it looked exactly the same as it had seven years ago, even though this was a different part of town, a different basement, a different floor.

“Are you alright?” Thrask asked, beside him and Cullen startled.

“I’m fine,” he said, even though he was anything but.

Meredith was still walking around the circle. “I haven’t seen anything like this in the last seven years,” she said. “That was before you joined us.”

“I know,” Cullen said, softly.

“Is this like the situation you were in?” she asked, and Cullen bit the inside of his cheek, because he had told Meredith what he remembered of the time vampires had captured him and a group of his friends, dragging them underground. He had watched every friend he had one by one, night after night, get dragged into a circle that looked exactly like this. He had described the circle for her, covered in blood, surrounded by candles, lorded over by a man who had been one of his high school teachers and another being that never removed its hood. Cullen had only ever seen its teeth flash in the candle light as it tore someone else’s throat out, Uldred kneeling beside it, crooning about what a good job he was doing for his new master.

“Yes,” Cullen said past his dry throat. “This is exactly like it.”

Thrask was giving him a look, like he knew why Meredith was putting him on the spot. “But no one has done anything like this in almost a decade.”

“That we know of,” Ruvena muttered.

“So why is this suddenly happening again?” Thrask continued like he hadn’t heard her.

“We still don’t know why they stopped in the first place,” Meredith said. “One day we were finding ritual spots like this all over the county and the bodies and the next they just stopped appearing.”

Cullen looked down, head feeling too heavy. “I think,” he said and had to clear his throat. “The vampires that did this. They were older than the vampires we find around here generally.”

Meredith’s sharp eyes were back on him. “Did you hear something when they held you?”

“Just that they were looking for something,” Cullen said. “There was more than one of them, and they were looking for something. The one I saw—they looked different too. Something about their body just couldn’t pass for human anymore, but I can’t describe how. It was different from the new vampires, or the ones we hunt here.”

“If you were captured by these ancient vampires, how did you survive anyway?” Ruvena asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“Do you doubt our stalwart, Cullen?” Meredith asked.

“I’m just confused is all,” Ruvena said. “He’s so badass one minute and then you get him in a basement like this and he almost falls apart.”

“I’m not almost falling apart,” Cullen snapped.

“Ah, see, there’s some of your fire back,” Ruvena said.

“I survived because I was last,” Cullen said. “And someone fought them.”

“It wasn’t one of us,” Thrask said. “Was it?”

“No, I don’t know who it was,” Cullen said, except that was a lie. “I was disoriented from blood loss and pain and it was dark. I never got a good look at their face.”

Except that was an even bigger lie, because Alim Surana had knelt beside him in that dusty, blood stained basement, smoothing bloody fingers along Cullen’s cheek to try and calm him down. “It’s alright,” the boy who had skipped a grade and sat behind him in history murmured. “It’s going to be alright Cullen.”

“It can’t be, it can’t be,” he had sobbed, Alim’s hands still cupping his face.

“You survived, Cullen, you’re going to get out of here,” Alim said, in that same tone he’d used to calm down angry horses and angrier teenagers bent on hurting whoever was nearest at hand. “You’re going to be alright.”

“They killed them,” Cullen said, tears falling on Alim’s hands. “One by one, I couldn’t do anything. I let it happen—And Uldred—”

“Uldred is dead,” Alim said, and he was only seventeen. Cullen wasn’t sure why his one year on Alim felt so important suddenly, but he was falling apart while Alim just seemed even more contained. “And you survived. You’re going to get up, you’re going to walk up those stairs, and into the sun, and you’re going to make it. You’re going to make it, Cullen, now _get up_.”

And Cullen had, somehow, made it up the stairs and into the sunlight.

He had never seen Alim Surana again. Nor had he ever told anyone of that moment, Alim urging him back up into the world, not even Meredith knew. The only reason he knew it hadn’t just been a vision was because Alim’s hands on his face.

He looked away from the circle again, crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a breath.

“But they’re back now,” Thrask said.

“If they ever left,” Meredith said.

“I think they left,” Cullen murmured. “I don’t know why, but if they had been here, just based on how many people disappeared seven years ago, they would have not been quiet so long.”

“Well, whatever brought this on, they’re our problem now,” Meredith said. “Stay alert, stay in touch and don’t do anything stupid.”

Thrask caught Cullen at the top of the stairs. “Are you going to the memorial tomorrow night?”

“Shit,” Cullen said under his breath. “It is already—?”

“That time of year again,” Thrask finished for him. “Most of us will be there. I know you lost a lot of friends.”

“Yes,” Cullen said, throat too dry, because seven years ago people had disappeared at an unmatched rate for five months before just as quickly those disappearances stopped. Several townships came together in Little Pine to mourn all those they lost.

Thrask clasped him on the shoulder and walked away, leaving Cullen staring at his feet for a long aching moment.

-0-

“This is the second time this week I’ve seen you and you’re not even injured,” Mahanon said at his elbow, Cullen turning to look down at him. His face was wane and tense, a candle in his hands that he held clutched tightly in front of his chest.

“It is,” Cullen greeted, going back to looking at where Blackwall walked with Josephine, her arm through his and it was obvious she was leaning against him to keep herself up. “But we all come out for this, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Mahanon said, looking down.

“Your uncle, wasn’t it?” Cullen asked.

“For starters,” Mahanon said, looking to the left and Cullen followed his gaze to where Ellana Lavellan stood, Sera talking to her and gesturing widely.

“How is your cousin doing?” Cullen asked.

“You know,” Mahanon said, his voice artificially light. “As best as can be.”

“I’m sorry for your losses,” Cullen said and Mahanon reached out, squeezing his hand with one of his.

“I think everyone is sorry for everyone else,” he said. “That’s why we have this shindig.”

“I’m pretty sure you should never call it a shindig where Josie can hear you,” Cullen said under his breath and Mahanon actually cracked a smile.

“You’re right. I think the town council gives her blood pressure enough trouble.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been giving her blood pressure trouble since sixth grade,” Cullen said and Mahanon’s mouth twitched again.

“I’m glad you came,” Mahanon said. “Sometimes you don’t.”

“Sometimes I can’t,” Cullen said.

“I understand,” Mahanon said. “But sometimes its easier to grieve with a lot of people instead of just by yourself,” and then he was walking away, culled over by Dorian Pavus, who slung an easy arm over his shoulder when Mahanon got close enough.

Cullen let out a breath, long and low, looking around the town square filled with those who came to mourn in whatever way they could. Candles were being passed out and almost everyone had one but he didn’t want one so he turned away, stopping when he spotted Hawke at the edge of the crowd.

He stood there, hair ruffled from the wind of his bike, hands in his pockets and eyes dark.

For a moment Cullen could only stare because he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually _seen_ Hawke at the memorial. Or so alone.

Cullen forced himself to look away because there were reasons he’d avoided Hawke since high school, he didn’t need to approach him or speak to him two nights in a row now.

Reasons.

But he took another breath and was moving, heading for Hawke just as Hawke turned to walk away. “Hawke!” Cullen called because once he had decided to approach the other he couldn’t just let him leave.

Amazingly, Hawke paused, turning his head. “Cullen,” he said, some confusion at the edge of his voice.

“I,” Cullen started and had no idea what to say now he had Hawke’s attention. “I—I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“No?” Hawke arched his brows. “Why not?”

“You—you’ve avoided events like this for the last few years,” Cullen said and Hawke’s brows just inched higher. “I—” Cullen floundered again.

“You noticed.”

“It’s hard not to notice you,” Cullen said and instantly flushed as Hawke stared at him.

“Yeah? And did you notice me?” Hawke asked, teasing, and Cullen cleared his throat, looking away.

“Yes, I always noticed you. Even in high school.”

Hawke’s mouth opened but no words came out, his eyes even darker in the light of a hundred odd candles as he just stared at Cullen who wanted to slink away.

“You know,” Hawke said finally, when Cullen was inches from running. “I always meant to say I was sorry you had to drop out of the police academy. I know it’s, like, six and a half years too late but I know how much you wanted it.”

Now it was Cullen’s turn to gape at him in stunned silence. “How—”

“Come on, our school was even smaller than yours. Of course we gossiped about you kids when we went through all thirty in our class. Everyone knew how bad you wanted to be a cop.”

“I—Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Hawke said, shrugging one shoulder and starting to turn back around.

“Wait,” Cullen said, taking another step forward and Hawke froze. “Would—it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“You saw me literally last night,” Hawke said, but he’d turned around again.

“Yeah but that was,” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you—would you ever want to get coffee and catch up some afternoon?”

Hawke’s eyes darted away before coming back to Cullen. “I can’t.”

“I just—” Cullen said, taking a step backward, having offered too much of himself by accident and needing to flee.

Hawke closed his eyes for a moment and Cullen clicked his jaw shut. “Come to Varric’s some night,” he said finally. “And, and we can see.”

“Yeah,” Cullen said, throat dry, trying to remember all the reasons to never ever go near Varric’s bar again. “Yeah, okay.”

And with a look that went on too long, Hawke finally walked away, leaving Cullen’s heart beating rabbit fast in his chest.

He was about to walk back, see if he could find his sister in the crowd when he heard someone else call Hawke’s name, Isabella running toward him before he’d gotten more than a few feet from Cullen.

“I was looking for you all night,” she said, catching his shoulders. “Hawke, Hawke, you should have told us you were coming.”

“I’m playing it safe, promise,” Hawke said.

“That’s not what I’m talking about you disphit,” Isabella said. “Come on, Hawke.”

“I just felt like it was time,” and Cullen thought he should have already left, so much like the night before when he had lingered, listening to Varric and Hawke. “It’s been seven years.”

Isabella’s eyes were glittering in the light before she grabbed the back of Hawke’s head and pulled his head down to her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah it’s probably time,” she agreed.

Cullen forced himself to turn away when he saw Hawke’s shoulders shake like he might have been crying. “It should be me,” he thought he heard Hawke say and he stopped again. “It should be me.”

“But it’s not because you’re still here,” Isabella said and finally caught Cullen’s eye as he stood there, too stunned to move. She narrowed her eyes at him and Cullen winced in acknowledgement he was eavesdropping before he turned around and this time made it back into the crowd, leaving Hawke and Isabella at the edge of the night, just outside the circle of candlelight.


	4. Chapter 4

Varric sighed when he heard a clatter and a bang outside his door. “We’re closed on Tuesdays!” he yelled, not moving from his seat behind the bar. He waited for a moment and content it was silent on the other side he went back to the spreadsheet he was going through on his sleek laptop, the only new looking item in the entire bar.

Except a few minutes later there was another crash and he swore under his breath. “I said we’re closed!” he yelled, because it was around the time he usually opened for the evening, not long before sunset.

When he heard something that sounded like a trash can tumbling over he finally got up, muttering under his breath. “It’s way too early for someone to be this drunk and staggering around,” he said, yanking the door open. “I said we—”

And he came to a complete stop as he stared at the prone form that had passed out on top of his trashcan.

He leaned back into the doorway and yelled at the top of his voice, “Isabella!”

-0-

Anders ignored the sounds coming from upstairs, sitting hunched at the old PC in Varric’s basement.

“Anders,” Varric said from the top of the stairs. “I know people are wrong on the internet again, because they’re always wrong but I really need you upstairs.”

“It’s still daylight,” Anders said.

“All the curtains are closed, get your lazy fucking ass upstairs,” Varric said. “You used to be a nurse, right? We could really use your nursely skills.”

That got Anders attention and he looked over his shoulder. “Did someone hurt themselves?”

“I think it’s slightly more dire than that,” Varric said and Anders finally moved away from the computer.

“What’s going on?” he asked but Varric just gestured up the stairs and so Anders went.

He came to a dead stop at the top of the stairs, staring at the man currently spread out on top of Varric’s bar top, Isabella fussing with the first aid kit that Varric kept around for the inevitable bar fights that would occur. “I think I can fix, like, three of his cuts with this,” she said, tossing it down next to the man’s head. “Anders, help.”

“What the fuck?” Anders managed, eyes roaming up and down the man, starting at his shock of white hair to the white marks that stood out against his darkened skin. But those details were almost secondary to how many lacerations he had.

“We found him like this,” Varric said. “No idea where he came from, there’s no cars or anything I could see.”

“And it’s not like there’s another building for a mile or two,” Isabella said. “Anders, come on, I think he might be in serious danger.”

“And I really don’t want him bleeding out on my bar,” Varric said. “Somehow I feel like the police investigation would be really bad for business.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Anders said, doubtfully. “But I think this might require more than I can do.”

“Give it your best shot,” Varric said so Anders approached the bar, trying not to stare at the man’s face, which was shockingly beautiful, even under the blood currently on it.

Anders rolled up his sleeves. “Can you get me water and whatever towels you don’t mind losing,” he said, pulling the first aid kit toward him.

-0-

Hawke showed up shortly after the sun set, and Anders had managed to stitch most of the wounds closed but aside from occasional moments where the man woke up enough to mutter something in a language no one recognized before passing out again, he hadn’t woken up or said anything.

“What’s the,” Hawke started to ask and froze. “Varric. What the fuck?”

“We found him like this!” Varric said, flailing his arms for a moment. “Rather, we found him in far worse shape.”

“I think he might have internal bleeding,” Anders said, standing behind the bar now, holding the man’s hand and gently testing the fingers. “These are also definitely broken.”

“Anders,” Hawke said, voice going a little tight. “How are you doing?”

“With all this blood?” Anders asked, voice more casual than Hawke’s. “Probably better than you would be. Luckily I’m full up after the local clinic did a blood drive a few weeks ago.”

“How,” Hawke started to ask and then gave Varric a narrow-eyed look.

“What?” Varric asked. “You bring in stray vampires and someone has to feed them. Not everyone can do what you’re doing.”

“You know the point of blood drives is to actually help people who need blood,” Hawke said.

“Vampires are people who need blood,” Varric said. “It’s helping them!”

Hawke pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. “Alright. Alright. So we have a stranger who, just, showed up like this?”

“He was passed out on my trash can,” Varric said.

“Does he need to go to the clinic?” Hawke asked, looking up.

“I’m doing what I can, but yeah,” Anders said. “I mean not only am I lacking more than a first aid kit, but there’s some stuff even I don’t know how to fix. He’s going to need an actual doctor.”

“Has anyone called Aveline yet?” Hawke asked and Isabella barked out a laugh from where she was getting more towels down. “Right, so I’ll do that then. We’re technically under her jurisdiction here.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Varric said and Hawke walked outside, closing the door behind him before breathing and pulling his phone out, dialing Aveline’s personal number.

“Hey there,” he said when she picked up.

“Hawke? Is something wrong?”

“With me personally, no. With Varric’s bar? Yeah.”

“Isn’t he closed today?” she asked.

“Yeah, which, thank god. Um. Someone showed up here looking like he went eight rounds with a knife. We’re going to take him to the emergency room in Little Pine but since whatever happened probably happened near here—”

“I’ll meet you there,” Aveline said.

“Right,” Hawke said faintly as she hung up the phone. “Okay, great.”

He took a deep breath before walking inside. “Alright, Aveline’s heading for the clinic.”

“Good,” Varric said as the man suddenly pushed himself up, yanking his arm away from Anders and rolling off the bar, landing in a crouch. “Holy—”

“Where am I?” the man demanded. “What is,” and he paused, glancing at his arm where there was a neat row of stitches courtesy of Anders.

“Hey now,” Hawke said, holding a hand up. “We’re just trying to help—”

“Why?” the man demanded, his accent more clipped than anyone else in the room.

“Because that’s what you do when someone is found passed out and covered in blood in front of your bar,” Varric said, his hands up too as the man’s eyes darted around the room, on the edge of obvious panic.

“I didn’t, I didn’t mean,” he started.

“To what?” Hawke asked, softly and in what he hoped was a calming manner.

“To stop,” the man said.

“Well you had to stop at some point,” Anders said. “Your wounds are extensive and you can’t keep running forever.”

“I have to,” the man said. “I have to keep running, I’ve already lost too much,” and he started to walk toward the door, staggering and almost falling.

“Whoa,” Hawke said, catching him and the man froze, staring at him with his eyes wide. “Hey, it’s—”

But the man’s tattoos suddenly lit up from white to blue, and he jerked back, phasing right through Hawke’s hands on his shoulders and all the way through the bar until his back hit the wall with a clatter, causing several of the framed pictures back there to fall off the wall, the glass in their frames breaking on the way down.

Hawke just gaped, hands still in the air where moments ago he was holding someone. “What the shit,” he managed, everyone else staring, Anders behind the bar with the strangers whose tattoos were still glowing blue.

“Vampire,” he hissed and Anders tossed the bloody towels down on the bar. “You’re a vampire.”

“How the fuck,” Hawke started to ask.

“Your hands are too cold,” the stranger said.

“I could just have poor circulation!”

“And you smell like blood,” he continued, voice low and angry, body practically quivering with all the effort to hold himself still. “I can run from vampires and yet somehow I find myself amongst them again. There must be some corner of the world they haven’t touched.”

“Hey,” Isabella said, leaning over the bar and pressing a hand against the man’s shoulder, even though he looked ready to attack her for it. “I’m not a vampire. Neither is he,” and he gestured to Varric.

The man seemed to pause, his shoulder dropping slightly at the press of her warm hand, and he raised one of his hands to wrap around her wrist, thumb pressed against her pulse. But then he tensed again, looking toward Anders who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “But that one—”

“Fat lot of good saving your life just did me,” Anders said. “Yeah, I’m a vampire too. How about that for gratitude.”

“You’re over reacting,” Varric said.

“No, I know when I’m not wanted or appreciated,” Anders said. “If you need me, I’ll be back in my basement.”

The stranger watched him go, still holding Isabella’s wrist. “Are you a thrall?” he asked. “Are they controlling you?”

“What the—no!” Isabella said. “Give me my hand back now,” and he released her hand, Hawke still hovering by the door. “No one controls me.”

“Then why are you surrounded by vampires?”

“Because Hawke’s been my best friend since I was six years old,” Isabella said. “You think death is really coming between us now?”

Hawke swallowed down a smile as the man just stared at Isabella. “That’s not how this works.”

“It is if I say it is,” Isabella said. “He’s my friend. Becoming a vampire didn’t change him.”

“It did,” the man protested. “It always does.” He paused, looking between the three others still in the room before his tattoos finally faded back into white. “Which one is Hawke?”

“That one,” Isabella said, pointing over her shoulder and Hawke gave a tiny wave, the stranger squinting at him. “You can trust him, promise. Not even becoming a vampire changed his intense and annoying need to help people.”

“I don’t believe you,” the man said, softly, but he was leaning hard against the wall, his strength seeming to disappear.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Hawke said. “Seriously, Anders said you might have internal bleeding.”

“A hospital?” the man asked. “A vampire wants to take me to a hospital?”

“Seriously, we’re just trying to save your life,” Hawke said and the man looked at his stitches again, brow furrowed.

“It’s not,” he started, confusion leaking into his voice before he staggered again, catching himself on the wall.

“Come on, honey,” Isabella said, jumping up onto the bar and sliding onto the other side to catch him around the waist. He struggled for a second before collapsing against her. “We’re just trying to help you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he murmured but that seemed to be all the strength he had in him, head falling against Isabella’s shoulder.

“Varric?” she asked.

“Yeah, take the jeep,” Varric said. “I’ll work on clean up just in case anyone else stops by, I don’t want my bar covered in blood.”

“Here,” Hawke said, joining Isabella. “I can carry him.”

“He’s totally out cold again,” Isabella agreed, transferring the unconscious man to Hawke’s arms before snagging the keys to Varric’s jeep from the hook under the bar. Hawke hesitated a second, staring at the man’s lax face that had been twisted up in fear and anger just moments ago. “Hawke, come on,” Isabella said, snapping Hawke out of it and he swung the man up into a bridal carry, because he was shockingly light now that he was in Hawe’s arms.

He carried him out to the jeep, Isabella spreading a blanket over the back seat and Hawke carefully buckled him in, making sure his head was supported before he slid into the passenger seat. “You know, I still find it funny Varric trusts you of all people to drive his jeep but not me.”

“You drive a bike with no helmet,” Isabella said, turning the jeep on before she carefully checked all the mirrors and then stared Hawke down until he buckled his seat belt before she pulled out.

“You know a car accident can’t kill me right?” Hawke said. “Same with the helmet.”

“And that’s why I get to drive Varric’s car and you don’t,” Isabella said and Hawke grunted before he paused, turning around in the seat to stare at the man.

“Where do you think he came from?” he asked, as Isabella pulled the jeep out of the gravel parking lot and hit the gas going down the empty and dark highway toward Little Pine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of having three years to be on the run Fenris has had like a grand total of seven hours on the run from the vampires. Which means he might even be more angry this time around.


	5. Chapter 5

“And here you are,” Mahanon said, leaning against the admissions desk, a clipboard in one hand as he gave Cullen a long look. “It’s Tuesday too. I’m so proud.”

“It’s just a cut,” Cullen said, because they had been aggressively seeking out vampires, and he had gotten thrown around the room by one. Young vampires were stupid, and there seemed to be more of them than usual.

“Sure,” Mahanon said. “Which you got farming.”

“There’s a lot of sharp edges in farming,”  Cullen said.

“I’d suggest you look for a new job if I thought you’d ever take one,” Mahanon said, walking around the desk. “I’ll get you checked in, have it looked at.”

“Who around here is hiring?” Cullen asked with a shrug.

“I know Sera is looking for help around the garage,” Mahanon said and his eyes flickered up. “Actually. Ignore that. If this is what you do to yourself farming, I’d hate to see what you do to yourself with welding tools.”

“I can only assume it would be bad,” Cullen agreed as the doors slammed open, Aveline Vallen stomping through.

“This isn’t your jurisdiction,” Cullen found himself saying.

“Evening, Cullen, Mahanon,” she said, nodding at both of them in turn. “And no, it is not. However, the possibly unconscious man my friends are about to bring in, certainly was found in my jurisdiction.”

“The what now?” Mahanon asked.

“He was described as looking like he went eight rounds with a knife,” Aveline said dryly.

“Wouldn’t that, um, be smarter to get an ambulance?” Cullen asked.

“Smarter?” Aveline sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s Hawke and Isabella. Who knows what they think,” and if on cue, the doors opened again, Hawke carrying the form of a passed out man with a shock of bright white hair.

“I’m going to call the doctor,” Mahanon said, scrambling around for the phone before calling over his shoulder.

“He woke up,” Hawke said. “And then went out again. I think he’s lost a _lot_ of blood.”

“What the _hell_ , Hawke?” Aveline asked. “That’s not eight rounds with a knife, that’s twenty.”

“Well I had nothing to do with it,” Hawke said as a gurney was rushed out. “We just found him like this.”

“You said he woke up?” Mahanon asked, already at the side of Dr. Alexius.

“Briefly,” Hawke said. “Yelled at lot, freaked out, said some stuff, passed out again. It was maybe ten, fifteen minutes.”

The doctor nodded, already taking him back.

“Should one of us,” Hawke started to ask but the group was already gone, leaving Cullen standing with the other three. He was pretty sure his hand needed stitches, but didn’t feel much like pressing anyone for their attention yet.

“What happened?” Aveline demanded again. “Seriously.”

“Come on big girl,” Isabella said, patting her shoulder. “I’ll get you coffee and we can go over it. I don’t think Hawke wants to relive some of it.”

“What does that mean?” Hawke and Aveline asked, almost in exact unison.

“Hawke, you’re an idiot, babe, that’s what I’m explaining to you,” Isabella said, steering Aveline toward the door.

“Is it going to be one of those things?” Cullen heard Aveline say as she went out the door.

“It’s a thing,” Isabella replied before Cullen now stood alone with Hawke.

Hawke who was squinting at the handkerchief wrapped around his hand. “You doing okay there?”

“I’m fine,” Cullen said.

“Which is why you’re at the clinic?” Hawke asked.

“It’s a minor cut,” Cullen said. “Mostly just wanted to check and make sure it didn’t get infected.”

“You know what’s really good for that that doesn’t have a copay?” Hawke asked. “Neosporin.”

”Are you alright?” Cullen asked after a beat, too aware this was the second time they’d been practically alone together in so many weeks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Hawke said.

“You have blood on your shirt,” Cullen said and Hawke glanced down.

“Ah,” he said, after too long of a moment. “So I do.”

“Sir?” a new receptionist asked. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” Hawke said and glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door swing again. Hawke had apparently disappeared through it and he frowned for a moment. “I just need my hand checked on.”

-0-

When he came back out from the exam room he came to a stop because Hawke was there again, his legs crossed on one of the waiting room couches with a large carry out bag from McDonalds in his lap.

“How many cheeseburgers are in that thing?” Cullen asked, because Hawke had one in his hand.

“Like, five,” Hawke shrugged.

“You know that’s not good for you, right?” Cullen asked, gravitating over to him like a moth heading right for the nearest light.

Hawke just shrugged. “I’m stressed. When I’m stressed I like cheeseburgers. And it’s not like we’re as fancy as you are over here in Little Pine. We don’t even _have_ a McDonalds.”

“Yes, how tragic,” Cullen said. “Still, _five_?”

“Want one?” Hawke asked, pulling another one out and gesturing with it. Cullen paused for a long moment, glancing around the otherwise empty waiting room before he sat down beside Hawke.

“I’m surprised they even let you bring that in here,” he said and Hawke shrugged, handing him the wrapped sandwich before digging around the bag again and coming up with fries. “And fries?” Cullen asked. “Seriously, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“Or cancer or who knows what else, really,” Hawke said. “I’ve also been told I’m a very dangerous and reckless driver, so something is sure to get me sooner rather than later.”

Cullen frowned at him and Hawke looked over.

“What?” he asked. “You’re going to get on my case too?”

“It’s a rather pessimistic view, isn’t it?” Cullen asked. “You might not die young, if you take care of yourself.”

Hawke stared at him, a devastatingly long moment and Cullen couldn’t figure out why. “Would you come to the funeral?” Hawke asked and Cullen couldn’t actually tell if he was joking or not.

“Sure,” he said and then swallowed. “Of course I would.”

“We haven’t talked, since like, high school,” Hawke said. “And even then it was mostly me heckling you from the stands.”

“You were a remarkably good heckler,” Cullen agreed, because there had been at least one time he’d come to the stop in the middle of a game, looking too long at where Hawke sat, wearing sunglasses even though it was dark already, Isabella curled up in the crook of his elbow and grinning like a cat with all the cream.

“Glad I made an impression,” Hawke said. “Imagine if you made a speech at my funeral. Here lies Hawke, who once caused me to get hit in the head with a football, due to his particular skills at pissing people off no matter where he was or what he was doing.”

“Twice,” Cullen corrected.

“Twice?” Hawke glanced over at him again. “You got hit in the head twice because I was distracting you?”

“As I said,” Cullen said, finally unwrapping the cheeseburger. “You were very good at it when you wanted to be.”

“Shit, and apparently I was a dick who wanted to give another student a concussion,” Hawke said.

“Anyway,” Cullen cleared his throat. “I would come to your funeral, yeah.”

“Sorry about getting you hit twice in the head,” Hawke said.

“It was a long time ago,” Cullen muttered.

“It was less than a decade,” Hawke said. “It wasn’t _that_ long ago.”

“Ever feel like high school was another life time ago?” Cullen asked, leaning back slightly.

When he glanced over because Hawke was silent, he found Hawke staring into the distance, not seeing anything. “Yeah,” he said finally. “High school does feel like another life time ago.” He cleared his throat, shook his shoulders, and dug around for another handful of fries.

“I haven’t come to Varric’s yet,” Cullen said suddenly.

“No,” Hawke agreed.

“It’s just been, busy,” Cullen said.

“I didn’t really give you a deadline,” Hawke said. “You’re the one who said you wanted to catch up.”

“I did,” Cullen agreed. “I do. I know we weren’t ever close, but—”

“But I made an impression?” Hawke asked, flashing him a grin and honestly Cullen sorta hated his beard. It made him even more handsome in a way that shouldn’t have worked for anyone but it _did_ and Cullen didn’t want to stare.

“Yeah, guess you did,” Cullen said.

Hawke turned another sandwich around in his hands, still wrapped. “You never really did say why you wanted to,” Hawke said. “I mean, come on, I’m me and you’re you and why the sudden interest?”

“It’s not sudden,” Cullen said.

“Come on. You sing in your church choir and I drive a motorcycle,” Hawke said.

“Those things are not remotely exclusive,” Cullen said.

“I think you know what I mean,” Hawke said. “Hanging around me isn’t really a great idea.”

“Why not?” Cullen asked, and he’d unwrapped the sandwich but hadn’t taken a bite yet. He just held it, feeling the warmth leech out of it and into his hands.

“Come on,” Hawke said again. “I’m just—I’m not really good for anyone. People get hurt when they hang around me too much.”

“I sorta do that anyway,” Cullen said, holding his hand up and gesturing to it with his sandwich.

“More hurt?” Hawke offered. “Like, say, that stranger I dragged in bleeding not too long ago.”

“You sorta see us like Grease, don’t you?” Cullen asked and Hawke blinked over at him.

“I’m seeing what now?”

“Like the bad boy with his car and leather jacket and the good girl in the poodle skirt,” Cullen said.

“Except you’re not a girl, and you wear flannel and sing in in your church choir.”

“Same basic difference,” Cullen said.

“And also I was not going to be assuming romantic intentions,” Hawke said, staring at him now with too much intensity.

Cullen glanced around the room, noticing the receptionist who was ignoring them, focused on her romance novel behind the counter. “And if there were?”

“Are there?” Hawke asked in disbelief.

“And that’s surprising,” Cullen said.

“Yeah that’s surprising,” Hawke said and he stared at Cullen, something too much behind his eyes before his entire expression shut down. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Cullen asked, pulling himself back, shoulders hunching. “That—”

“It’s not even what you’re thinking,” Hawke said. “I just can’t. With anyone.”

“No one?” Cullen found himself asking. “Really? Out of all the people in the—”

“Cullen,” Hawke started to cut him off before Mahanon appeared in the doorway and cut both of them off.

“He’s awake,” he said and Hawke tensed. “He wanted to see you.”

“Me? Specifically?”

“The buff man with the beard, yeah,” Mahanon said and Hawke shot to his feet. “I told him he’ll probably have to talk to Aveline too, when she gets back, but he said he had to talk to you first.”

“Right,” Hawke said, and glanced down at Cullen who just stared back at him.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” Cullen said flatly.

“Right,” Hawke said again. “You’re welcome.” He hesitated another second before practically bolting to where Mahanon stood.

Mahanon gave Cullen a raised eyebrow over Hawke’s shoulder but Cullen only shook his head. Mahanon pressed his mouth together and Cullen knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of this but he just shook his head again and stood. Walking outside he hesitated before dumping the uneaten cheeseburger in the bin and climbing into his truck, resting his head on the wheel for a moment.

He couldn’t believe he had been as daring as he had been.

He couldn’t believe Hawke had shot him down so hard.

It had never been more than a stupid high school crush. There was no reason for it to hurt, especially when it hadn’t even gone anywhere.

But it hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

Hawke walked into the hospital room like nothing in the world bothered him—not the dried blood on his shirt, not the sharp smell of the hospital, and certainly not one Cullen Rutherford, local farmer do-gooder with lovely eyes.

The stranger was laying down, and Hawke was struck for the first time with how exactly small he was. Somehow it hadn’t registered as he carried him around, too worried about everything else, but seeing him almost swallowed by the hospital bed drove it home. He had been looking at the machine displaying his vitals but when Hawke stepped inside his eyes snapped over.

“Good to see you awake,” Hawke said, hesitating before sitting down.

“Is it?” the stranger asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Hawke asked.

“I am nothing to you,” the man said. “You don’t know me at all. Why would you care about whether I am well or not?”

Hawke laughed, making the stranger narrow his eyes at him. “I’m sorry. It’s just. You’re really new here is all.”

“People don’t just care about strangers.”

“I do,” Hawke said with enough sincerity the stranger gave him another look. “What? I do.”

“Even though you are a vampire?”

“Okay,” Hawke said, looking over his shoulder. “Let’s actually not say that out loud where people can hear.”

“You are hiding what you are?” the stranger asked, tilting his head.

“Well, yeah,” Hawke said. “I don’t really think this small Southern community would be ready for the fact creatures of the night are real and oh yeah I might be one of them.”

“But you are a vampire,” the stranger said and Hawke hissed, looking at the door again. “Do you pretend others of your kind do not act as some sort of lords, killing without regard?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know,” Hawke said.

“That man who was in here before, when I woke up,” the stranger said, switching topics in such an obvious way Hawke blinked at him. “He was one of the People, wasn’t he?”

“The who?” Hawke asked.

“The People,” the stranger repeated, like that meant something more significant than it sounded.

“I honestly still have no idea what you mean,” Hawke said.

“So you really do know nothing,” the stranger said. “How… odd.”

“Look,” Hawke leaned forward. “I don’t know what you have going—”

“I was a slave,” the stranger said and Hawke froze, squinting at him. “To an older vampire. Certainly not one of the ancients, but old enough to have power and no small amount of standing in their world.”

“Vampires have slaves?” Hawke asked.

“Oh yes,” the man said. “But you didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t,” Hawke said. “I don’t know anything, alright? I died, I woke up, everything since then has just been guesswork.” He paused, looking at the stranger. “Why slaves?”

“Because they like to be served,” the stranger said, tone going sharp and angry. “Because when one is as old as they can be, one wants the finer things in life. Including people.”

“You ran,” Hawke said.

“It’s happened before,” the stranger said, looking away.

“You escaped,” Hawke said. “That’s impressive.” He looked at the door again before leaning forward. “Your master. There’s been some murders recently and—”

“It was just him,” the stranger said. “He was passing through.”

“To do what?” Hawke asked, elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped to hide that they were shaking. “Why do they keep coming here?”

“He was exploring whether it was yet time for the others to return,” the stranger said.

“So he came, and left, but they might be back?”

“Yes,” he said, lifting his arm as if he forgot he was still attached to a machine and stopping when he realized an IV was still in his arm. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Why?” Hawke asked. “They were here seven years ago and now again? Why? We don’t have anything here except dust and the bones of slaves.”

The stranger gave him a sideways look that went on for too long. “Slaves?”

“This is the American South,” Hawke said. “There’s some plantation owners among the bones too.”

“You have no idea,” the stranger said and he sounded almost marveling. “You honestly have no idea.”

Hawke looked down, biting his lip. “You know, we skipped something.”

“And what is that?” the stranger asked, arching a brow at him.

“My name is Garrett Hawke,” Hawke said, holding a hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 “I, what?” the stranger asked, frowning at the offered hand.

“It’s an introduction,” Hawke said. “We forgot to introduce ourselves.”

“What’s the hand for?” the stranger asked and Hawke leaned forward carefully, slowly plucking the stranger’s hand up and shaking it, even as he continued to look at him in confusion.

“We shake hands,” Hawke said. “It’s what you do with strangers. And tell each other our names.”

“I,” the stranger shook his head before lifting his eyes back to Hawke’s face. “Fenris. I am called Fenris.”

“Well, Fenris,” Hawke said. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Why? Why would it be good to meet me?” Fenris asked.

“Because it just is,” Hawke said, and he paused before he brought his other cold hand up, covering Fenris’ hand. “I’m glad you’re alright, and I’m glad we got you to the hospital.”

Fenris looked away, like he couldn’t handle Hawke staring at him.

“What are you going to do?” Hawke asked.

“Do?” Fenris said. “I’ve already stopped running too long.”

“You literally couldn’t have run anymore,” Hawke said. “You were really fucked up there.” He let go of Fenris’ hand, setting it gently down on the hospital bed cover and Fenris hadn’t resisted him at any point. “You could stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Fenris stared at him. “Stay here? They’re going to come back here, it’s just a matter of time. I might as well keep running. I… I can’t do anything else.”

“It’s not like the rest of the world is really lacking vampires, is it?” Hawke asked and Fenris arched a brow at him, looking significantly at the door. “Yeah, yeah. But is it?”

“No,” Fenris said, wary.

“So stay here.” Hawke said. “There’s safety in numbers.”

“What numbers?” Fenris demanded, tilting his chin in challenge.

“Our numbers,” Hawke said.

“You’re the very thing I’m running from,” Fenris protested. “To stay with you, to hand you my chain—”

“I’m not asking for your chain,” Hawke said. “Just that you could stay, if you wanted.”

“I cannot trust you.”

“Well, we could work on that,” Hawke said with a shrug. “I’ll go ask if you are being released tonight or not.”

“I,” Fenris started and clicked his jaw shut. “I do not understand.”

“That’s okay,” Hawke said. “And if you want to run later, you can.”

Fenris’ mouth thinned. “That’s what I don’t trust.”

“Right,” Hawke said, uncertain how to respond to that before he sighed and stepped into the hall, finding Mahanon standing suspiciously close to the door. “Jesus, wear a bell. Were you waiting here or something?”

“No, I just got some test results and was coming back,” he said and Hawke couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “What do you know about him, anyway?” Mahanon asked, tilting his head toward the door.

“Not much,” Hawke said. “How’s he doing? I mean, he’s awake which is good but—”

“I honestly can’t make heads or tails of these results,” Mahanon said and Hawke felt his spine tense. “I thought he would be in worse shape with everything but,” Mahanon frowned. “He’s already starting to spring back. There’s a lot of strength there.”

“Say,” Hawke said, squinting at the tiny lines under Mahanon’s eyes. “His tattoos sorta look like the ones you and your cousin have.”

“Do they?” Mahanon asked, his eyes snapping up from the charts. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Hawke agreed. “Say, do you know of any group that call themselves the People?”

Mahanon stared at him a fraction of a second too long. “The people? Like specifically?”

“Yeah,” Hawke said. “I don’t know, it was just something he mentioned.”

“No, I don’t,” Mahanon said, but his eyes weren’t moving from Hawke’s face.

“Right, sorry. As I said, he just said something about this group but it wasn’t really specific and I just didn’t know what he was talking about. Anyway, how long until he gets released?”

“Why, planning on taking him home?” Mahanon asked.

“Doesn’t sound like he has anyone else is all,” Hawke said.

“Yeah,” Mahanon looked back at the chart. “It might be in the morning but I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah,” Hawke said. “Thanks a lot, Mahanon.”

“Sure,” Mahanon said, looking back up at him. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

“I mostly stay out of town,” Hawke shrugged. “Like the open road.”

“You and your bike?” Mahanon asked, teasing and Hawke laughed.

“The only love I need in my life,” he agreed and Mahanon gave him a look like he wanted to press, like maybe he knew something about the conversation that had happened mere minutes before. A conversation when he turned down someone he had never even considered a chance. A chance he would have wanted to take so badly back before everything went so wrong.

“Yeah,” Mahanon said. “I hope you have a good night, Hawke.”

“You too,” Hawke said. “Hey I’m just going to let him know,” and he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Yeah, alright,” Mahanon said and Hawke slipped away, wishing he had his bike with him so when this was over he could take off and no one would even ask him which emotions he was running from.

-0-

He stepped outside the clinic a few minutes later to find Aveline storming up the parking lot, Isabella following. “Where the fuck have you _been_?” Hawke asked.   

“We got waylaid,” Isabella said.

“Between here and the café?” Hawke asked. “By what?”

“Police officer Lucius,” Aveline snarled. “After the first cup of coffee he showed up with his crew.”

“I swear he wishes he still had the word ‘lord’ in front of his name,” Isabella said. “You think he would have gotten over the fact his family lost their title a couple centuries ago but no, he still acts like the serfs aren’t worth his attention. Unless of course—”

“I know where my jurisdiction is!” Aveline snarled. “That arrogant bastard, thinking he needs to—” She threw her hands up and stalked several steps away before turning back around. “It doesn’t matter. How is he?”

“He’s awake,” Hawke said. “And you will not _believe_ some of the stuff he just said to me.”

“Like what?” Aveline asked and Hawke looked around before shuffling her toward Varric’s jeep, climbing in the passenger seat and Aveline sliding into the back. Isabella pulled herself into the front seat and they both looked at Hawke expectantly.

“Alright,” Hawke said. “So he woke up again. He was a lot calmer this time. But he said he was a slave to the vampires.”

“A what?” Aveline asked and Isabella went still.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know they kept human slaves around either,” Hawke said. “But apparently they do. He’s running.”

“Does he know,” Aveline started to ask.

“He said his master is the one who’s been in town,” Hawke said.

“I need to talk to him,” Aveline said, hand already reaching for the door.

“He’s being released in the morning,” Hawke said. “I think you should be the one to pick him up.”

“Will he come with me?” Aveline asked.

“I don’t think he sees a lot of other options yet,” Hawke said. “Or he’s just going to run, but we won’t really know until tomorrow morning.”

“Is his master still here?” Aveline asked, crossing her arms and leaning forward.

“No, he said he left,” Hawke said and took a deep breath. “But he said, he was checking the area out to see if the others should come back to.”

Both Aveline and Isabella went quiet, staring at him.

“They might be all coming back?” Isabella asked. “Why? What do we have that they could possibly want? It’s not even like we have enough people to sustain their diet.”

“I don’t know,” Hawke said. “But I think he might, which is why—”

“I’m camping out here all night,” Aveline said, cutting him off. “If he knows, I want to know.”

“Yeah, figured that might be a thing,” Hawke said.

“How are you doing?” Isabella asked, looking at Hawke in the lights from the parking lot.

“I don’t know yet,” Hawke said, taking a second to actually think about the answer. “One of us should probably call Varric or Anders and let them know what’s up. And god only knows where Merrill is this week, has anyone caught sight of her?”

“She lives in _your_ garden shed,” Aveline said.

“Yeah, but do I know where she is?” Hawke asked. “Not likely. And she didn’t seem to remember her phone this time.”

“She’ll turn up,” Isabella said. “She always does.”

“Yeah,” Hawke said, leaning back in the seat of the jeep and staring at the clinic doors.

“You call Varric,” Isabella said. “I’ll start driving us back.”

“And I’ll wait here,” Aveline said, pushing the door open and pausing. “You are alright, aren’t you?”

“I’ll make it,” Hawke promised.

She frowned at him before nodding and climbing out of the car, closing the door gently behind her.

“You ever notice she’s so much nicer to cars than people?” Isabella remarked, starting after Aveline as she walked across the parking lot, heading to her own car.

“I think it might have something to do with the fact she could bench press most people,” Hawke said, fumbling his phone out. “Ergo, being nice to cars is just to keep them intact.”

“Sure,” Isabella said, turning the ignition on and looking over at Hawke.

“Seriously, please stop,” Hawke said.

“Oh yeah, I’m really going to stop worrying about you now,” Isabella said. “You’re in the club house, Hawke, that’s all there is to it.”

“Of course you show this with ill timed sex jokes and copious amounts of booze,” Hawke said.

“Well, yeah,” Isabella said, laughing as she clicked her seatbelt on and put the jeep into drive. “What do you think I am, a heathen?”

“Actually yeah, that’s exactly what I think you are,” Hawke said, and he found himself watching the clinic’s lights until they turned a corner out onto the dark country roads heading back to the Hanged Man.


End file.
